


The Kirkwall Gazette Presents: Ask Lord Dog

by Maverocknroll, Saiya_tina, Ywain Penbrydd (penbrydd)



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [47]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fictional advice column, Gen, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Letters to the Editor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 17,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverocknroll/pseuds/Maverocknroll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saiya_tina/pseuds/Saiya_tina, https://archiveofourown.org/users/penbrydd/pseuds/Ywain%20Penbrydd
Summary: Varric's trashy newsrag has a monthly response column written by Lord Dog, a.k.a Viscount Hawke. Those columns are now archived here.





	1. (February 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog,  
>  How would you handle a friend that keeps trying to get you to read friend-fiction that you're not comfortable with? (To be clear I have no problem with friend-fiction itself, in fact I am rather a fan of it.)**
> 
> **I am at a loss as to how to broach the subject without giving offence.**  
>   
>  Your advice on the matter would be very much appreciated.  
> ~A Quiet Chasind

Dear Quiet Chasind,

It sounds like the best thing you can do is to let your friend know that their kink is not your kink, and that's okay. Let them know you like their writing, assuming you do, but this particular story involves things you're not comfortable reading -- that it doesn't reflect poorly on them that they choose to write it, but that it is simply not your bag.

My husband, for instance, very much enjoys Orlesian novels of the very most intriguing variety, but he has no patience for any involving demons, which have gotten oddly popular in Orlesian fiction of late. A dear friend offered us a volume with a princess and a desire demon, and while I greatly enjoyed it, he couldn't bear to lift the cover. We returned it with a note that we were glad she'd thought of us, but we'd rather not have any more demon erotica in the house.

\--Lord Dog


	2. (April 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>    
>  **My brother keeps reorganizing my drawers. I thought this would stop when I moved to the other side of the city, across a glorified moat, but it keeps happening. Mostly I'm just wondering how the fuck he gets in. Please get him to stop.**
> 
> **\-- Confuzzled in Kirkwall**

Dear Confuzzled:

My brother does the exact same thing. Are we related? I feel like we might be. In which case, I've been putting up with his sense of order even longer than you have. Unless this is you, Cormac, in which case I'm putting him in a box and mailing him to you.

I'm assuming you've asked him to stop, and it hasn't worked. I might suggest using pigeon-proofing on your windowsills, and maybe changing the locks to something a bit more complicated. Perhaps also add traps to your drawers for a few weeks, to discourage this behaviour.

If anything works, please let me know...

\-- Lord Dog


	3. (July 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog,**
> 
> **I recently visited a noble in Hightown only to find their floors so slippery I fell and broke my arm. This is not the first time this has happened, and now wonder if a council sanction can be made against wax floors. Is there anything you can do?**
> 
> **\--Slippery in Kirkwall _  
> _**

Dear Slippery,

I support this, wholeheartedly, having also suffered the perils of waxed floors! I shall put a bill to the Council, and see what comes of it. We at the Gazette advise wearing shoes with textured soles, while we work to pass this bill. Also, stop visiting Lord Halla. I swear he does it on purpose, just to watch people fall.

\--Lord Dog

 

> **Dear Lord Dog,**
> 
> **Adding wax to floors is a great way clean up a room and give it a fresh-looking shine. However, I do not expect you to understand that, since I doubt you even know which side of a broom is the handle or where that handle is meant to go (hint: not for internal use).**
> 
> **To sum up: it is my house, and I can wax it if I want to.**
> 
> **\--Lord Halla**
> 
> **PS: forget textured shoes. Wear socks! You can skate on them. _  
> _**

 

Lord Dog could not be reached for a reply, and his response seemed mostly to consist of 'HRRRRNGHLRRRGH' screamed through a pillow and a locked door. Please accept this message from our editor, instead: _Stuff it in your gaping elf-hole and don't tell me about it, Slutty._


	4. (August 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog,**

> **Rumour says that you and the Knight-Captain have a very spicy sex life. Any suggestions for a failing marriage to a poncy Orlesian who refuses to take me anywhere nice? Do I need to just visit the Rose?**

> **-Sexually Frustrated**

Dear Frustrated:

If you can afford the Blooming Rose, you can probably afford to visit one of my favourite merchants, the next time he's in town. Have you heard of the wonders of Tevinter garden furniture? Half the pleasures of the Rose right in your own back garden, and none of the neighbours the wiser except the ones who buy from the same merchant, and who cares what they think, unless they're suggesting a new piece.

There are options for everyone, because the magisters are truly that depraved, Andraste's blessing on every last one of them, except that one asshole who crashed my brother's wedding -- things to go into, things to go into you, things to share, things to enjoy alone, and places for all the accoutrements one might desire to make those things as pleasant as they can be. (Don't forget to pick up the heat runes! They're separate!)

But, for the price of a few evenings at the Rose, you can find yourself something that will last far more than just a few evenings.

\-- Lord Dog


	5. (September 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Do you believe it proper for men to be learned? My husband and I think it far more proper for our son to become a guard or a soldier, and most important for him to become a good husband to a woman of means. But, our son insists he wishes to go on to the Chantry as a scholar! However kind the Chantry may be to orphans and abandoned children that fall into its care, we're certain it's not right for our son to push himself into a profession forged by women far more intelligent and devout than any man could be.  
> \-- Concerned Mother

Dear Concerned:  
My learning came as most men's does, by practising the arts taught by the men who came before me. It was practical learning, and it served me well.

But, I am a brother to two scholars of great merit and a templar -- and I'm husband to a templar as well. While my sister will always be the great mind in the family, I cannot say the study did my brothers or my husband any harm. In fact, I think the devout study of the Chant and the history of Thedas has made my husband a better husband, as well as a better Knight-Commander.

Certainly, there are those who disagree, claiming that a man who can tell his wife's slip from another's is learned enough, or that a man needs just as much learning as he must have to tell the weeds from his crops, but I say that to limit a man's learning to those things below what a woman studies is to limit the progress of many arts, and to damn a city to poor food and weak swords.  
\--Lord Dog


	6. (October 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  I must know whether it is lawful to enquire ones fortune, or what is to come of any one, in the manner of Tevinter or Rivain.  
> \--Troubled by Tomorrow**

Dear Troubled:

If you're in Tevinter or Rivain, I would expect it is!

I know nothing of current Tevinter traditions, but we have all heard the legend of poor Eleni Zinovia, who knew, without control or assistance, what the future would bring. I think none could speak against one who simply has the future available.

But, I expect the Rivaini method is frowned upon by the Chantry, outside of Rivain. Consulting with the spirits is not _actually_ against Chantry law, or the best healers would be put to death, which I would add did happen, here in Kirkwall, due to poor interpretation of the law by the previous Knight-Commander. It is not consulting that falls foul of the law, but _possession_. There are rumours, of course, that the Rivaini method involves possession, but as I know no Rivaini seers, I cannot speak to this.

Still, I find it is best to seize one's fortune with one's own hand, conceal it beneath a loose-cut jacket, and slip off into the future without a word to anyone on the subject.

\--Lord Dog


	7. (November 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**

> **My family, and thus myself, have been under contract to an Orlesian noble family for more than a century. We are obligated to perform a particular service, to protect their holdings, in the event of a particular occurrence. However, this family is has been stripped of their noble status, and they no longer possess the holdings being protected, as a result of that. More even than that, the contract specifies that it can only be renegotiated by the person holding a specific office within that family -- which no one does, since their fall from the upper strata. My question is: Are we still obligated to perform the services necessitated by the contract, if the family is neither in a position to require them nor in a position to alter or revoke the contract?**

> **\--Ruffled Feathers**

Dear Ruffled:

If the contract is a general service contract and was paid in advance, then its terms must be met, regardless of the state of the other party. Their deaths would not absolve you, but your deaths might, as you would no longer be in a position to meet the terms -- although, in that case, your estate would still need to refund the contract.

If, however, the contract is a general service contract intended to be paid on completion, you do them no service by performing a service they no longer need and may be unable to pay for. This may be considered a violation of the contract, however, which should be carefully thought through.

If the contract, itself, is dependent on them being nobility, though, in the revocation of their status, the College of Heralds has freed you from the necessity of fulfilling it -- by no longer being a noble family, they will have violated its terms.

I am not a specialist in Orlesian matters of law, having concerned myself extensively with the law of my own city, but I hope this helps you come to the right decisions for yourself and your family. I do advise seeking someone more skilled in Orlesian law for the final execution of the contract, whichever way that should go.

\--Lord Dog


	8. (December 2016)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**

> **Do the same common bonds of Faith and Justice bind all men?**

> **\-- Confounded in Kirkwall**

Dear Confounded:

I would not think a bond with either Faith or Justice common. Perhaps particularly Justice. But, this is perhaps not quite what you meant.

Every man wishes to think himself just; that his less-laudable choices are acceptable, as they serve some greater good. But, men who are truly just, in their every action? I have known only one who came near that at all, and he was terrifying.

Faith, though. Faith in what? In the Maker? Certainly most of Thedas is Andrastian, which is unsurprising, given the core principle of the teachings are to spread the chant to every corner of the world. But, not everyone places their faith in the Maker or Andraste. Some have other gods. Some have no gods. Some place faith in their families, their friends, or themselves. Some have been without so long they have no faith left in even themselves.

So, to answer your question, no. I don't think 'all men' are bound with, to, or by Faith and Justice, and perhaps it is for the best. (Certainly being bound to Justice is something I would rather not consider too long. Bound by Justice might be worthwhile on a long weekend, though.)

\--Lord Dog


	9. (January 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  What think you of the rumours that the Snake Kings have taken control of Nevarra with ancient rites of Blood Magic, and that through them Nevarra is merely an agent of the new Age of Tevinter?  
> \-- Scared of Snakes

Dear Scared:

When I first received this message, I had no idea what a 'Snake King' was, but I do know some wonderful women who know a great deal about Nevarra and Nevarran history, and they were quick to assure me that any 'Snake Kings' that might rise to the throne of Nevarra are actually members of the Pentaghast family, and they prefer to be addressed as such.

But, how? you ask, for the Pentaghast family is as human as any others. But, I will tell you the secret. It seems it is no facet of that family in particular, but rather one of those who hunt dragons. One of my delightful lady-friends was quick to point out that those who hunt dragons also tend to eat dragons, and that ancient stories say that a sufficient amount of fresh dragon blood can make a person grow scales. A large number of Nevarran dragon hunters, over the centuries, arose out of the Pentaghast family, who rose to fame because of their skill in the task. Notably, once they learned the trouble inherent in imbibing the blood of dragons, the Pentaghast hunters, in particular, swore off it. One cannot have half a dragon sitting on the throne. What a scandal! What would Antiva say? (I'll admit I've little mind to the Antivan sentiment for my own appearance, but I've come to realise after long and in-depth discussion that my own husband might not appreciate me as well if I were to turn into a dragon in such an irreversible fashion.)

The connection to Tevinter was more difficult to find, though there is a solid line in magical practise from ancient Tevinter magic to the death mages of the Mortalitasi. However, Tevinter has forgotten the Mortalitasi, and their allegiance is to the nation that fostered their studies -- Nevarra. That is the only connection aside from a few trade contracts, directly between Tevinter and Nevarra. Between the 'Snake Kings', or Reavers, as they seem to call themselves, and Tevinter we find only a tenuous connection. They are a rare image in Tevinter works, at this point in time, but at one time in the past, Tevinter did worship dragons, and their cult of seven dragons did spawn the occasional dragon-skinned individual, though more frequently mages, if this translation is correct, than the dragon hunters of Nevarran history.

Which is to say, whatever the trade in dragon blood, or its effect on those who drink it, there is no concern that any person sitting on the Nevarran throne is other than a rightful Pentaghast heir, who most likely does not have scales, and if they do it is far more embarrassing than threatening. The Pentaghasts are, overall, firmly committed to preventing another Tevinter expansion southward, just as much as to preventing another Orlesian expansion to the north.

\-- Lord Dog 

* * *

 

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  To what end are you consorting with the Magisterium? Trustworthy rumour has it that you, like your brother, wish to bring about the downfall of the Andrastian faith, to replace the Maker's Law, once again, with the depredations of the cursed.  
> \-- Righteous Wrath**

Dear Wrath:

Consorting with the Magisterium? I suppose that's one way to describe it, although not one my husband would like the sound of. He prefers I only get down to the _consorting_ part of things with him, behind closed doors.

Kirkwall has no pending treaties with Tevinter, which is to say, we are negotiating nothing with the Magisterium. Any trade agreements date back as far as Dumar, if not earlier. I will, however, confess to owning some lovely Tevinter furniture, acquired under the terms of the standing trade agreements. Tevinter certainly does know comfort for one's bottom -- even if my husband is telling me he's not sure 'comfort' is the word he'd use.

As to the matter of my brother and the Andrastian faith, I can only assume you are referring to the rumours circulating from time to time that the Chantry was no accident. The official report from Val Royeaux suggests that the building collapsed into its own cellars in a freak structural failure, and points to buildings of a similar age in Minrathous that are supported by magic. At no point did the Chantry see fit to check for magical supports in the ancient building it repurposed to hold our own Grand Cleric. The dwarves working in the cellars couldn't have been expected to notice, as dwarves have no magical sense at all. I ask you this: What benefit to the Chantry if they denied an attack that had actually happened? What benefit would they gain in not pursuing those responsible? I see none.

And what my brother has to do with any of this, I know only that he and my sister went to evacuate the building, when it began to destabilise. Rescuing Chantry sisters in danger is hardly the act of someone intent on destroying the Andrastian faith.

To you, I offer that some Tevinter furniture might go far to ease your mind. Perhaps consider a weekend at the Garden of Delights, with the Tevinter Toe-Tingler. I've heard it's a real favourite among the regulars.

\--Lord Dog 


	10. (February 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Where go the Souls of Good Men immediately after Death?**   
>  **\-- Horrified By Necromancy**

Dear Horrified:  
As  a close associate of a sometime-necromancer, I took it upon myself to  ask if those of the dead raised for battle were truly reinstated in  their own flesh. She was quick to assure me this is not the case. The  necromantic arts rely on spirits of the Fade, rather than spirits of the  dead.

As to where one travels, after death, I found several  answers, and not being dead, I cannot be sure which, if any of them, is  the truth of the matter, though I am devoutly Andrastian, and as such, I  choose to put my faith in the answer the Chantry provides. According to  the Andrastian tradition, at death, the good are taken up to Andraste's  side, to enjoy the glory of the Maker's first kingdom. Those who die  with evil in their hearts are driven into the Abyss, a place of great  evil, from which none return.

The Mortalitasi of Nevarra believe  that when a person dies, their soul displaces a spirit of the Fade, as  it passes through on its journey to the Maker. This spirit, then, must  be provided with some means to interact with its new world, and so the  Mortalitasi preserve the bodies of the dead -- most often those of some  historical value, like members of the royal family -- to provide  somewhere safe for the spirits forced out by the passing of the dead.  This preservation often results in exotically decorated skeletons that  bear more weight in jewels than the royal family of Orlais. (I say,  sitting beside a skull with carved sapphire eyes that is not looking at  me disapprovingly, no matter what my dear sometime-necromancer says.  It's a skull. It doesn't have facial expressions.)

The elves do  not distinguish between good and evil, among their dead. All are led  into the Beyond by the guide of dead souls, Falon'Din. There, they  wander an eternity, visited by Falon'Din and his brother Dirthamen, who  is the god of wisdom, learning the secrets of creation. There are  stories that once, before the rise of Tevinter, some of those elves  would return from the Beyond and share their wisdom with the living --  but, no more. None, now, return, and my Dalish friends say their dead  are laid to rest with a staff, to help them find their own way, in case  Falon'Din does not come. I would expect he's been quite busy, since the  Fall of the Dales.

Some of the tribes of Ferelden believe that the  best of folk are reborn, if they are given a proper ritual when they  die. In this way, brave leaders and wise skalds may be brought back to  serve their people a second time, and perhaps even again. If they are  average folk or do not receive the ritual, then they pass on to gather  at the side of the Lady of the Skies -- not so different to the way the  Chantry tells it. (If they are correct, and my father returns to us  anew, I have nothing to apologise for, but my younger brother may have  some explaining to do.)

Among the dwarves of Orzammar, I am told,  the spirits of the good are said to return to the Stone -- to enrich and  enhance the essence of dwarven life. Those who are truly vile, though,  are said to wander the Deep Roads as 'Rock Wraiths', made of mining  castoffs. (Though, in this age, few view the Rock Wraiths as anything  but legend. I must insist, with the wisdom of personal experience, that  they are incorrect. Rock Wraiths are very real, regardless of whether  they are formed of the souls of deceased dwarves, and I am never  returning to that Maker-forsaken hole in the ground.)

I do not  know the Qunari view on death, despite once having held the Tome of  Koslun in my hands. I didn't have the chance to stop and read it, and  since that unfortunate affair with the Arishok, I have no Qunari to ask.

Hesitant though I am to recommend banned books, if you can lay hand to it, Roberto the Skeptic's _Grand Visions of Life and Death_ , written a few years back, might provide more in-depth answers to this question.  
\-- Lord Dog


	11. (March 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Is it true that two of your brothers are...?  
> \-- Titillated But Concerned

Dear Titillated:  
...  templars? No, that's just the one, though I understand a Hawke in  armour to be rather popular in certain quarters, and don't get me  started about templars and their Swords of Mercy. (Here, my husband  looks quite infuriated that I would mention his genuinely excellent  sword in public.) But, no, one templar is enough for the family. Well...  two, if you count my husband, but we're related only through marriage.

But,  perhaps you meant 'on holiday'? But, again, that's only one of my  brothers, however much I might wish a different one would also go on  holiday. Just a few days without someone re-arranging my underclothes or  slamming into my bedroom in the middle of the night to yell about  things that could have waited until morning...

Sexy? No, that's  all of us, my sister included. There has never been any question that,  our other attributes aside, the Hawke-Amells are the best looking noble  family in Kirkwall. (Which is not, I might add, how I became Viscount of  Kirkwall. That was my devastating wit, which is also shared by most of  the family, and my incredible political acumen, which you are reaping  the benefit of, right now!)

Named after mages? No, that's just  one brother -- and he's named for a revolutionary magister with  excellent taste in dresses. And me, of course. I was named for a  handsome enchanter from the Gallows, though I'm afraid he was Tranquil  before I had the chance to meet him. Pity, I heard he'd been an  enjoyable sort.

Interested in elves? ... That could be two of my  brothers, for two entirely different definitions of 'interest'. One  studies elven culture and religion, the other married an elf and I don't  want to know more about his 'elven studies'.

'Still not  married', as far as I know, could also be two of my brothers, though  good luck with either of them. One's the baroness's paramour, and the  other one's on holiday somewhere in the distant reaches of Thedas. (If  you're an elf, you might have better luck with the married one, but  don't let him hear I said it.)

In Kirkwall? That's also true,  though the city would be better for it if the third came home. Provided  he stopped eating cabbage salad. On second thought, perhaps it's better  he's on holiday. My house hasn't smelt this fresh in years.

I'm afraid, dear reader, you'll need to be far more specific.  
\-- Lord Dog

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Is it true that two of your brothers are... fighting the urge to kill you right now? No, I'm sure it's more than two.  
> P.S.: Good luck finding where I hid your smalls. And your liquor.  
> \-- Lord Halla

Dear Lord Halla:  
Never  mind my smalls. My husband likes me better without them, even if he  wishes I would stop mentioning it in public, instead of in appropriately  inappropriate closets. The liquor, though... You'd better have left the  Anijswater from Nordbotten. That was a gift.

As to which of my  brothers might be fighting the urge to kill me, I can be assured of only  two: Slutty and Adopted. Shouty couldn't be reached for comment. I'm  sure he's got other things on his mind, like how many of the neighbours  are going to kill him, if he doesn't shut up.  
\--Lord Dog

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Must you be such an asshole?  
> \-- Lord Halla

Dear Lord Halla:  
I'm  the middle sibling of five. I'm pretty sure it was inevitable. Also,  you took my Anijswater. Please enjoy the view out your back window. The  volume of dragon dung involved in that masterpiece was inordinately  costly.  
\--Lord Dog 


	12. (April 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  Having seen the most recent cartoon in the Gazette, are you not concerned what might be drawn of your own reign? If even a prince in Andraste's service is not exempt from ridicule, where does that leave you?  
> \-- The Hardy Lance**

Dear Lance:

Prince Sebastian left Andraste's service to return to his family's holdings and rule them. However much he may choose the Chant as a guide to his policies, he is no longer directly in service to the Chantry or Andraste any more than the rest of us are. Still, that leaves him in the awkward position of being an unintended heir, who may not have received the same training as his older siblings, who were considered more likely to inherit. I think the Gazette was quite restrained in their assessment of his rule, and with some recent choices in mind, I'm grateful he has Lady Amell to assist him.

That said, even if he were in the service of the Divine -- even if, Maker preserve us, he were the Divine -- I would expect the Gazette to show little mercy, if any. Such is the nature of a good rag. Do the hundreds of minor publications in Val Royeaux show much more restraint? I think not. In fact, I am personally of the opinion he should be thrilled it was only a cartoon and not the ribald fritterings of Page Six. (Which I have appeared on innumerable times, starting long before my election. ... With an 'L', thank you.)

As to where that leaves me, I refer again to the fact that Page Six of the Gazette cannot seem to get enough of me -- dragons? Qunari? -- and I am no worse for it. All the better, I think, and I'm quite certain my husband would agree. What damage could a wry assault on my actual policies do, after the repeated battering of my virtue?  
\-- Lord Dog

(Editor's note: The husband in question has lodged a request that we no longer misuse Lord Dog's image in our 'vapid and vulgar anecdotes'. We were quick to inform him that his complaints would be the seasoning for the next use of His Lordship. The husband assured us it was all salt.) 


	13. (May 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  You refer often to your husband, and speak of him well. How has he taken the news that you and the Seneschal are also involved? Are these extra services the reason you've kept Dumar's man on staff?  
> \-- Concerned Citizen

Dear Concerned:  
I'm sorry, did you just suggest I was buggering _Bran_? The man's old enough to be my father. His son is dating my cousin. I can't deny he's good looking, but I tend to confine myself to people who are both actually interested and within ten years of my age, and Seneschal Bran is neither of these things. What in the abyss have you been drinking, to imagine such a thing? (And please send me a bottle, I've some people who might benefit.)  
\-- Lord Dog

(Editor's note: The Gazette, in pursuit of what would've been the story of the decade, if it were true, put in other inquiries, which follow. We have also chosen to run an appropriate piece on Page Six.)

Dear Concerned:  
Regardless of the status of my relationship with my wife, which continues to be excellent even after all these years, I assure you the viscount is not at all what I am looking for in a partner, and the idea that I might have slept my way to the top implies worse things than even the truth about Dumar and Threnhold, before him. I dispute this distasteful rumour, and should you persist, we will settle this before the Keep, with steel.  
\-- Bran Cavin, Seneschal of Kirkwall

Dear Concerned:  
Given my father's vivid and memorable response to the fact that I am, as Lord Dog noted, dating an Amell, I think we can safely assume that he's not.  
\-- Jenet Cavin, Ambassador to Starkhaven

Dear Concerned:  
Has Bran turned into a dragon while I wasn't looking? No? Then the rumour isn't true. I know my husband at least that well.  
\-- the husband 


	14. (June 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  Construction  has stopped completely on the Chantry. Is the Divine preparing to send a  March, or have you finally convinced her we'd have had it done already  if she hadn't hired incompetent buffoons?  
> \-- Dwarfier by the Day**

Dear Dwarfier:  
If  there's an Exalted March coming, Her Holiness hasn't seen fit to tell  me about it, yet. But, with the trouble in Orlais, I think she's got  more than enough on her plate. In fact, some of the trouble in Orlais is  why the Divine (or her staff) has decided to halt construction on  Kirkwall's Chantry. Indefinitely.

Now, dear readers, we don't  just have a Chantry, in Kirkwall -- we have a Cathedral, technically,  because we're supposed to be housing the Grand Cleric of the southern  Marches. Starkhaven has the northern Grand Cleric, if you can believe  it. I'd ask why they didn't pick a place further north -- Ansburg maybe  -- but nobody wants to seat a Grand Cleric that close to the Tevinter  border. But, this Cathedral and its appointment must go unfinished,  leaving the coast without official leadership at that level. Although no  leadership at all is probably an improvement on Elthina, Maker keep  her.

Instead of restoring our grand and ancient Cathedral, the  funds set aside for the restoration have been diverted to restore a tiny  town in the Frostback Mountains, where the Divine will be hosting an  attempt to restore peace in southern Thedas. Which, hopefully, will  prevent the March we all dread, as well as a northward spread of the  Templar Order's new aspirations -- aspirations our darling  Knight-Commander has seen fit to resist. (Which is good, because I love a  man in armour, but he'd be a lot less sexy, if he were evil.)

So,  with the Divine's attention on Orlais and the war starting in the  south, it falls to us as citizens of this great city to restore the  Chantry in our own design. It's hardly safe to leave those half-built  Orlesian-style walls towering over Hightown, and I look forward to the  council's vote on whether we can pay a dwarven team to handle the  structural concerns. I do know the durability of a good dwarven build,  and given that what we lost had stood more than a thousand years, I want  to be very sure that what we use to replace it will last even longer.  If we are truly fortunate, Lord Hawke's team may be willing to decorate,  once they return. (Yes, Hawke, I will actually pay you actual money and not leverage our long years of acquaintance.)  
\-- Lord Dog 


	15. (July 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  I  have seen a certain article at the shop of Gytha the Stonecarver, said  to be fashioned in the likeness of a Grey Warden of some repute. I feel  certain this Warden is strictly mythical, as such a thing cannot  possibly exist within the realm of men. As one known to own some of  Gytha's goods, you have no doubt witnessed the thing. What opinion have  you on its genuineness?  
> \-- Warden Fancier

Dear Fancier:  
While I have been spared too clear a look, while sober, I can assure you the  Warden in question has some notable assets, in that regard. Which is to say, I don't know if it's really him or his, but I wouldn't be nearly as surprised as you seem to be. He was in a relationship with someone sufficiently close to me that I had to hear the passionate screaming, every night, and if that person were still in range of questions, I'd ask. Instead, knowing they were not each other's only evening  companions, I put to our readers -- can anyone confirm the 'Pillar of Passion' is truly cast from the staff of a certain Mage-Warden?  
\-- Lord Dog

Editor's  note: Suggestions that Lord Dog ask his other brother were met with a  cup of hot coffee poured directly into this editor's lap.

To the Warden Fancier in last week's Gazette:  
If  you put your hand around the base, has it got a ridge that starts just above your knuckles and wraps to the right just under where the foreskin is pulled back? If yes, that is certainly the Mage-Warden I spent time in the company of, while I was in Kirkwall.  
\-- A Feathered Friend.

Dear Lord Dog:  
A  mutual friend ensured a copy of this dispute wound up in my hands, under the assumption the Warden was one of my men, rather than a native  Marcher. If you send one to me, I'll tell you if it's the infamous  Flagpole of Vigil's Keep. Everyone here knows it on sight, after that  one morning. And then the other one. And maybe that other time, too.  
\-- Warden-Commander Solona Amell of Ferelden, Arl of Amaranthine

Dear Lord Dog:  
I can ~~_confrim confrom con_~~ I can tell you it is his. He took me to the shop for the same ~~_purpess porpose purrpose_~~ reason, and the act of making it was just as he ~~_desc_~~ said it would be. There is no doubt.  
\-- Sword of Shartan

Editor's note: This editor has reasons to believe that 'Sword of Shartan' may also have witnessed this particular Warden's assets in use, on at least one occasion and may be in a position to identify them by sight. We here at the Gazette have been spared that sight.

To the Editor:  
Lord Dog having brought me to this shop of depravities, I can confirm the artefact began as a component of the anatomy of a Mage-Warden of my acquaintance. All else aside, I would know that scar anywhere, as I knew it when it still bled. Visually. Observed it. I witnessed it when it still bled, and I am surprised that particular facet of the man survived to be cast in this fashion.  
May the Maker take mercy on me,  
Ser Not-Appearing-In-This-Issue

Editor's note: Don't be so sure of that, Ser. Have you checked Page Six? 


	16. (August 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **After seeing the last cartoon the  Gazette published, featuring yourself, I am not certain this message  will reach you, as I am fairly certain that a man of your stature would  not kindly take such character assassination from the press, even if you  do write a column, here. But, in the event you remain on the Gazette's  staff, why? How do you handle such accusations of scandalous behaviour?**   
>  **\-- The Rose's Thorn**

Dear Thorn:  
I  have had several pointed words with our editor about that stubble. The  very idea that I would dare remove my clothing in front of the adoring  masses without at least shaving first is, indeed, quite scandalous and  slanderous! No, indeed! Lord Dog is a handsome and well-kept man!  
\-- Lord Dog

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I  believe Rose's Thorn was protesting the idea that you would dance with a  pole, not that you would forget to shave before doing so.**   
>  **\-- Pretty In Pink**

Dear Pretty:  
Well, Thorn might be a thorn in the Rose's side -- I've seen those protesters in the street, from time to time -- but they obviously don't spend  enough time inside if they're unaware of my talents in that regard. Why,  I've removed my clothes competitively! The only reason I didn't win the  vote was that my brothers were there and they threw the results.

And  take that as advice! Never get into a stripping competition with your  siblings on hand -- they're terrible influences, and they'll never look  at you quite the same.

As to the pole, well, that took more work,  but I assure our readers it was a skill I had before Kirkwall. I knew  many great entertainers, in my time in Ferelden, and some of them saw  fit to instruct me in their arts. I find the dance keeps me lithe,  limber, and able to support myself in the sorts of awkward positions one  winds up in after escaping an event through a third storey window onto  an icy ledge. Very good for the muscles. I definitely advise taking it  up.  
\-- Lord Dog

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Unaware of your talents'? I'm unaware of your talents. I won that competition fair and square.**   
>  **\-- J Sharp**

Dear J:  
All  I'm hearing, here, is a challenge. Do you want to try that again? This  time without my family in attendance? Let's step it up -- pole  challenge, this time. I will not have my talents so slandered, without  proof!  
\-- Lord Dog

**Editor's note:** The competition, which  I'm sure many of our readers showed up for, was a very close thing, but  J Sharp proved for a second time that he is the superior performer.  Take note, readers, that one must possess great skill to do well at the  Rose. Take note, also, that I regret having observed this just as much  as I regret having observed the first competition, but such is the price  of gathering the news.  


	17. (September 2017)

> **I HAVE HEARD, "lord" "dog", from a  reliable source that you are not, in fact, the Champion of Kirkwall, and  that the Qunari leader was slain by some other, possibly the  Knight-Commander, himself! It seems to me that you have used ILLEGAL BLOOD MAGIC to influence the minds of the people of Kirkwall, and I  demand that you free them from your evil spell, to which I am immune by virtue of my PRESSED TIN HELM. Will you answer these accusations, or  will they once again go unprinted?**   
>  **\-- Ear of the Righteous**

Dear Ear:  
My  editors would like me to point out that they have made every attempt to  keep your accusations away from me, but they forget that Lord Dog  sometimes digs through the trash, like any dog does. When I found this, I  felt the need to answer it before all of Kirkwall.

First of all, blood magic?  Please, that's the cheap answer. I'd venture that I'm not a mage, but  as all of Kirkwall knows after that incident with the Harrimanns, that's  not a bar to becoming a blood mage. Instead, I offer that if I were  going to influence the minds of the people of Kirkwall, I'd do it  through bribery and public works -- you know, actually paying for their  faith, and rewarding it. Which, as I recall, was the promise that got me  elected to this seat.

Further, you accuse me of using blood  magic on the Knight-Commander, Knight-Captain at the time, who is  leading the charge against blood magic and maleficars in Kirkwall -- do  you mean to accuse the Knight-Commander of malfeasance? Of failure to  perform his duty? To bring the righteousness of the Templar Order into  question? Surely, if it was true, someone would have noticed.

Let  me offer you this secret: we have had blood mages of serious ill-intent  in Kirkwall, one in particular responsible for the deaths of Lady Amell  and several other women. I have done battle with them and witnessed  their arts, and I will tell you the volume of blood needed to maintain  the sort of mind control you're proposing would cost far more than all  the deaths in Kirkwall. As researchers from the Gallows have discovered,  the city of Kirkwall was designed for that kind of blood magic, and the  records show the sacrifice of thousands of slaves a year, during the  Tevinter period, but those channels and cisterns remain empty, now, but  for the last few demons of the Tevinter period we have yet to track down  and dispose of.

What you propose is simply impossible under the  limitations of magic, and I invite you to examine the evidence, with  assistance from the templars. Let it never be said I sent someone into  those last few demons without a team of hunters behind them.  
\-- Lord Dog

 **Editor's note:** Lord Dog insisted upon fielding this reply, as well, despite our advice to the contrary.

> **THE DOG-LORD declines to address the first accusation! He is not the true Champion!**   
>  **\-- Ear of the Righteous**

Now, listen here, Ear:  
I  was named Champion of Kirkwall by the nobility of this city, who were  inside the keep when the Arishok was slain there. I would expect they  know far better than you who was responsible for that, and it is most  certainly not the bold and charming Ser Dragonslayer, whose forte is  dragons, obviously, and not qunari. Why, I was witnessed slitting the Arishok's throat with my own blades! That is hardly something that can  be challenged, now that we have disposed of the question of blood magic!  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Ear:  
Please stop insinuating that I am the Champion of Kirkwall. Please. I have so  much work to do, and this idiocy is keeping me from it. I watched Lord Dog stab the Arishok right in the neck -- as did everyone in that room.  
\-- Ser 'Dragonslayer'

Dear Ear:  
I  was present for the duel in which Lord Dog cut the Arishok's throat,  while 'Lord Halla' was near his death. He was named the Champion of  Kirkwall for that deed, and I would not see his doing of it challenged.  
\-- Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven

 **Editor's note:**  The origin of this last note is confirmed by the fact that I know  Sebastian's handwriting and it was sealed with the royal seal of Starkhaven. On another note, we will not be printing any further submissions on this subject, because I was one of the people in that room, and I know damn well what happened. Lord Dog is our Champion.  


	18. (October 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  I understand you claim to be a cousin of the  Warden-Commander of Ferelden. You are said to look so much alike that  people would mistake her for your sister. BUT! No one has seen the  Warden-Commander since some time before you began your term as viscount,  and your decisions as viscount and the tone of your letters bear much  resemblance to her choices and communications as Arlessa of Amaranthine.
> 
> Therefore,  it is clear to me that you are, in fact, the Warden-Commander, changed  by the demon-magic of Kirkwall into a man! There is no shame in this!  Why hide the full extent of your greatness from this city?  
> \-- A Perceptive Individual

**Editor's  note:** We wouldn't have bothered, but Kirkwall's been blanketed with  handbills for the last month, featuring sketches of Lord Dog and his cousin. And, yeah, if that was all I'd ever seen of them, I'd believe  it.

Dear Perceptive:  
I fear you may need glasses.

Also,  my cousin is not the Arlessa, she is the Arl, and if you are hoping to  get her to come out of the woodwork to prove you wrong, by striking you with lightning, while I look on eating sweet rice, that is an excellent  way to get there, from here.

I have never even met that cousin,  though my husband tells me we do look quite a bit alike. Still, he is  firmly convinced that we are, in fact, two different people, and he'd  know. I leave the rest of this column to the testaments of others in the  know.  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Perceptive:  
I am quite familiar with Lord Dog, having met him at his sister's wedding, and I can assure you he is very definitely not my wife, who is much better looking and  ever so much more magical. To put it less gently, I do not come when Lord Dog barks. The Commander, on the other hand...  
\-- A Feathered Friend

Dear 'Perceptive':  
No.  You are wrong. I did not marry a mage, and I would be extremely aware of the fact, if I had. In specific, I did not marry that mage, despite some ill-considered youthful infatuation. I know who I married, and I  am, and always will be, able to tell the difference between him and his  cousin. I would agree. You need glasses, at least, and possibly several cups of that stiff coffee they make in Hunter Fell, to shake off whatever drunken delusion you're having.  
\-- Ser Dragonslayer

Dear Perceptive:  
Is  that what they're calling it, these days? You're lucky you haven't mistaken your dog for a hat, at this rate. If they're the same person, they've got much stronger and stranger magic than even Tevinter -- and  you can trust me. I've seen what Tevinter's got. I've gotten my sticky fingers all over both of them, in not much more time than it takes to sail from Kirkwall to Amaranthine and back. Changing that completely,  that fast, and travelling fast enough to get there before me both times?  I gotta get me some of that. I'd be unstoppable.  
\-- Big Boats 


	19. (November 2017)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Do you often find that  dragons are a source of trouble between yourself and your husband? Given  recent sketches in the Gazette, it would seem he does not share your  open enthusiasm for the creatures, which is a terrible shame. How deep a  wedge have dragons driven between you?**   
>  **\-- Fond of Scales**

Dear Fond:  
Let  me tell you, the only dragony wedge between us is about eight inches  long with very realistic scales. (Imagine me raising my eyebrows  suggestively, here.)

I've done much worse, in the course of our  relationship, than ramble on about my reverence for these majestic  beasts. Why, on a scale of one to 'accidentally brought an angry  magister to my wedding', which is truly the gold standard for fucking  up, in this family, I've achieved at least getting Crows set on me.  There are far better things to choose if a certain cocksure commander  were bent on a wedge -- I sleep strange hours, get stabbed a few times a  week, maintain a gaming house, climb through his office window because  it's more exciting than the door, fill his office with little paper  goats every year for our anniversary... I'm really quite irritating,  when I put my mind to it.  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Fond:  
What he  means is that this is a healthy adult relationship, and it is in no way  threatened by the occasional minor annoyance, like a certain someone's  insistence on bringing dragons into everything.  
\-- Ser Dragonslayer

Dear Dragonslayer:  
You never complain when I bring dragons into the bedroom...  
\-- Lord Dog

 **Editor's note:**  After interrupting Ser Dragonslayer in his chasing Lord Dog through our  news offices, shouting 'You can not print that!', this editor managed  to uncover that there are no actual dragons in the bedroom, and Lord Dog  is, in fact, speaking of a strangely popular evening accoutrement made  by Gytha the stonecarver. (And if you haven't been to her shop, I put  forth there is no better in Kirkwall.)


	20. (January 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  What is it with you Fereldans and dogs? I've heard you let your dog sit on the Council! Isn't that a bit absurd? It's just a dog. It's not like it can think!  
> \-- Wary of Barking**

Dear Wary:  
My dog, like the dogs of many Fereldans, and in fact most of the dogs in Fereldan art, is a Mabari. Now, that may not mean anything to a Marcher like you, but we're not talking about those little Orlesian lap-yappers. The Mabari are war dogs, if dragged down to their most base, but they are, as any Fereldan can tell you, far more than that.

There are two stories about the Mabari, and I'll let you pick the one you like best -- it's so far back, we'll never be sure. The first story, the one told in every home in Ferelden, is that the Mabari are the children of the hero Dane's wolf friends -- which is to say that, like Dane's own sons, they're descended from werewolves. The second story is the one told in Tevinter, that the Mabari were bred with magical enhancements to aid in the invasion of the Alamarri lands. Personally, I don't think Mabari look enough like wolves for the first one to be true, but it is with the willing aid of the Mabari that we drove Tevinter back out of our lands.

Either way, they're almost as smart as you or I! My dog plays a mean hand of Wicked Grace, and can tell a cheater faster than anyone at the table. Which, let's be fair, puts Mintaka a head, shoulders, and tits above the De Launcets, as potential members of the Council go. But, alas, the Council has only twelve seats, all of which are filled, so Mintaka merely accompanies me to meetings, and has no vote.  
\--Lord Dog

**Editor's note:** We here at the Gazette have lost several sovereigns to that dog. This editor would venture that it plays a better game than its supposed master. 


	21. (February 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Do  you miss me, yet? The Conclave is due to begin, tomorrow, and once a  settlement is reached -- however long that takes -- I'll be on the next  boat home. Please don't do anything terribly reckless in my absence,  whether with yourself or the city.  
> \-- Ser Dragonslayer

Dearest Ser Dragonslayer:  
You  blighted coward! Writing to the paper instead of to me! I suppose I  should be grateful you've written at all. I'll have to send a missive to  your dear sister and let her know you're still alive, since I expect  one letter is all the lot of us can expect from you at a time.

And  such a lack of faith! I've done nothing more reckless in your absence  than I've done with you here! All of the buildings are still standing,  and the Orlesians are no more displeased with me than ever... except perhaps that second cousin of Alyons, who has all the manners of a turkey baster and who cares what he thinks. The dog is fine. Bran has  neither stabbed me, nor spontaneously combusted. In fact, I think he might be better for not having to worry about finding you in my office,  demonstrating your swording technique.

And do I miss you? Do I  miss you? What kind of question is that to ask your loving husband? In  the time you've been gone, I've had portraits painted. You'll come home  to four, at least, capturing just how much I've missed you. They're all unsuitable depictions of the holder of this office, so there may be a  few more, before you return. Got to get something up on the wall of the  keep, so the next generation will remember my terribly handsome face.  And one day, children will ask why Lord Dog looks so sad, in his portraits, only to be told about the bold adventures of Ser  Dragonslayer, champion of the rights of the good peoples of Thedas, who  should not have been slaying dragons in the first place and deserves a  name that represents his better achievements and newfound acceptance  that dragons are not for slaying. It will keep them from asking too much  about my club by the docks.

As if you would need some mopey  portrait to say I missed you! I think the gift basket from Gytha's would  say enough! Every month you're gone, I buy something new for it. And I say in front of the shop, 'Oh, I think my husband will like this!' and then Gytha sells five more of them. But, when the runners tell me the  ship has come in, I'll send for duchess cakes and fine syrups, and no  one else will see you for a week.

Do come home soon, or I will need a bigger basket.  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Dragonslayer:  
Thrilled  though I am to no longer be subject to your 'meetings' with Lord Dog, I  would deeply appreciate your return, and in as few pieces as possible. I  have to tolerate the man's inconsolable sulk, daily. The Council is  ready to drown him. I have little doubt a few more personal letters from  you might make him more bearable, if you expect to be gone much longer.  
\-- Bran, Seneschal of Kirkwall 


	22. (March 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  I've  heard some ... interesting things about your relationship with the  Arishok. It is said that your experiences with the Qun would have drawn  demons of envy down on your husband's office. Would you care to comment?  
> \-- Qunari Curious

Dear Curious:  
My  experiences with the Qun were largely confined to discussing its  teachings over chess. And yes, my husband would likely have spawned  several demons of envy, if he had any idea how well the Arishok played  chess. Ser Dragonslayer is one of the finest players of the game in all  of Thedas, or so I'm told. I only win because he lets me cheat.

The  Arishok, notably, did not let me cheat. I still won, from time to time.  He had a blind spot to a few particular sequences, but generally tried  to force the flow of the game away from where I could even begin them.  Needless to say, my skills at the card table translate at least  partially to the chess table.

If, on the other hand, you are  referring to a particularly scandalous piece of literature that has been  circulating, over the last few years, I can assure you I have never  been called upon to serve the 'demands of his Qun', as it were. Such  things are likely better left to those with more intestinal fortitude --  perhaps Lord Halla or his screaming Antivan paramour, neither of whom I  care to think of in that fashion. That said, I have my suspicions as to  its author, and I am entirely certain that person has no regrets about  tarnishing my reputation in this fashion, do they, Captain?  
\-- Lord Dog

> **Dear Lord Dogshit:**   
>  **His 'Qun' is a little too rigid for my tastes, but thanks for thinking of me.**   
>  **\-- Lord Halla**
> 
> **Dear Doglord:**   
>  **The  Qun may be immense in its reach and depth, but Wardens never quit, and  they're much more available. As is Lord Halla, after a few drinks. I  submit that I have served far better than the demands of the Qun.**   
>  **\-- Antivan Screamer**
> 
> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  **Is it really fair to say tarnished?  I heard Ser Dragonslayer rather enjoyed reading that story, and then I  got to hear all about just how he talked you into re-enacting some of  the exciting parts. And before you come chasing down to the docks, I  didn't have to get him drunk to find out. I heard it all from your  sister. 'Taking lessons from the Screaming Antivan', she said. I don't  think a reaction like that from the bold and dashing Ser Dragonslayer  counts as 'tarnish'. Maybe you should say it 'enhanced' your reputation  in certain quarters. It was definitely popular reading in the Templar  barracks.**  
>  **\-- Big Boats**  


	23. (April 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **You done a good job with what's been done so far, but Lowtown's still not right. The roads are good now, but  there's still broken walls and the wind blows through houses. It's nice you even tried, but we'd like if you could try more.**   
>  **\-- Livin' La Vida Lowtown**

Dear Lowtown:  
I'll  give you the appropriate answer first, and then we'll talk. The Council  is hesitant to invest more in the poorer parts of town, because they're  too busy watching their own bottom lines, like the rich bastards they  are. I've been trying to get more work done in Lowtown since the roads finished, but I can't pull money from the city treasury without at least seven signatures, and I'm only getting four. (And you can thank the Baroness for one of those. She loves Lowtown just as much as I do.)

So, here's what I'm going to do, because I'm tired of these jerks, you're  tired of these jerks, and we've still got to fix some windows and walls  down there. It's put your lips on Lord Dog time! Half the city swoons  when I walk by, so let's put that to good use. Next week, I'll be  somewhere else every day, and for the low price of one silver piece (or  three copper if you live in Lowtown), any citizen or visitor in our fine  city can give me a kiss! (It's extra if you drool on my face, by which I  mean please don't.)

Madame Cheapass is still offended she's not  Viscount, so let's skip that obvious location. And the Chantry's still  not finished, so that's out. Let's try... the patisserie, Tyrone's  (you'll put up with the extra customers, won't you, Ty?), the Elven Library, the dockside chowder strip, the Darktown Memorial Chapel, the Gallows Courtyard, and ... the tea garden of the Keep. That should put  me in reach of everyone in the city, including a few troublesome Crows,  who I hope would be willing to set aside their contracts for just one  week, to help keep our city alive.

\-- Lord Dog

 **Editor's note:** When this editor suggested that perhaps Lord Dog might not want to put himself directly in the path of one or more assassination attempts, he was offered a single finger and kindly advised to sit on it. 


	24. (May 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  What's  this I hear about you selling kisses in my absence? To hear the  visiting nobles talk, half of them have kissed you more recently than I  have! Is this what I should come to expect from my all-too-handsome  husband of many years? And more than that, what possible expense could  justify it?  
> \-- Ser Dragonslayer**

My Dearest Ser Dragonslayer:  
Again you write to the paper instead of straight to me? How dreadfully impersonal! And you wonder how I could sell kisses!

I  explained it all in the last issue, which I'll have packed up with this  one and delivered to your not-so-secret mountain hideaway (to which I  am absolutely going to pay a visit, once I finish these negotiations,  and can guarantee the city is safe in the hands of its Seneschal and  Guard Captain). So, in place of explaining it all again, I shall recount  the highlights!

The patisserie attracted many noblewomen who  would have been there anyway, but were willing to spend a little extra  for a taste of Lord Dog with their duchess cakes and palmiers. Most were  delightfully well-behaved, but as well you know, in any crowd of  nobles, someone's hands are going to get ahead of them. At a gold piece  for every outrageous attempt on my person, we made a purse sufficient to  sustain a small village for a quarter.

Tyrone's is in the heart  of Lowtown, and more people came out than I could have imagined, few  with any coin to contribute, but many to offer thanks for what had  already been spent and to give advice on how to spend more. The  Seneschal, of course, refused to come out with me, but the guardswomen  assigned to ensure no one got out of hand took excellent notes that I'll  pass on to our builders. No trouble with any of the kissing, but I did  get into one small fistfight -- he took several swings, before I ended  the attempt with one.

At the Library, we earned only a handful of  silver, three pieces of it coming from the Baroness, herself, who  claimed she'd always wanted to do that, while Ser Chamberpots looked on  in horror. That was awkward, to say the least, and I did let him punch  me, when we got back to the house, but only after I let him know it  would have been well worth all three silver in reverse. We did bring out  a wide stock of donated cooking herbs and traditional elven remedies,  to be distributed among the people of Lowtown, at the low price of one  kiss for the corsetière.

I have had second thoughts about  appearances on the docks, in the future, but if this is the price I must  pay for the future of our fine city, so be it. The taste and smell of  chowder on everyone's breath was a bit much, but a good number of  merchants purchased kisses, once they learnt the money was going into  improving the city. Overall, we raised more gold at the docks than  anywhere else, even if a good bit of it was earned fending off  inappropriate advances from raider crews and more Orlesian hands than I  slapped off you, at the last ball.

Darktown welcomed us with open  arms and surprisingly open purses. A few coppers came from the local  merchants, who put on a wonderful show for the rest of the crowd, but  the real coin came from a few Coterie lieutenants who wanted the  prestige of being able to say they'd kissed the infamous Lord Dog. A  surprise visit from the Scholar of Sewers gained us a full gold piece  from his own will to assist, and through no misconduct on his part.

Our  visit to the Gallows brought many Knights and Enchanters to the yard,  but few had much to offer, given the situation you're currently  attending to. Still, we made a fine pile of silver, once the Enchanter  of Many Hats and Ser Paperpusher took the lead. You'll be pleased to  know that none of _your_ men made any untoward attempts upon your  dearest darling husband, possibly out of respect for you, or maybe just  because Ser Chamberpots was looking like he might punch someone. 

Perhaps  surprisingly, though less so if you're familiar with the usual  assortment of nobility that gathers around the door to my office, the  tea garden was the source of even more roving hands than the docks! And  these hands were less inclined to pay the price for their  transgressions, leaving me to submit claims for what most of them carry  around as pocket change, and don't think that's not going to affect the  next round of trade negotiations.

But, by the end of the week,  we'd raised enough to make a definite difference below the Stairs, even  without collecting those last claims. Definitely worth the effort.  Probably worth annoying my darling husband.  
\-- Lord Dog 


	25. (June 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Is it true your husband is  a heretic? We've heard rumours he's abandoned his faith in the Maker  and his service to the Chantry and gone chasing after some glowing cow  and the knife-ear that killed the Divine. Has the Knight-Commander  converted to the Qun?**   
>  **\-- Scared of Qunari**

Dear Scared:

Can  you even call it heresy, when the reports are that the Templar Order as  a whole has abandoned the Chantry and will be doing nothing to fight  the demons plaguing our southern neighbours? I would say he's serving  the Maker as best he can, in these troubled times, by protecting the  people of Thedas with any help he can get!

Admittedly, news has  been somewhat limited (I am looking at you, dear husband, or I would be  if you were here!) but I can safely say that the Divine and nearly her  entire Conclave could not have been destroyed by a mere one or two  actors. Not with the security arranged for the event. A temple far  larger than even our own Chantry was destroyed in a blast that tore a  hole in the sky. You remember when our own Chantry collapsed, readers!  Why, we had time, once the building began to shake, to bring nearly  everyone out of it! The Conclave has only two survivors at all, and they  fell from the heavens, by all reports, having been bodily taken up by  Andraste, herself. No, it is far more likely this is some Tevinter  assault, orchestrated from the surrounding hills. I have seen the power  of the Magisters, and even then, I think it would take more than just  one. What better retaliation for the Exalted March, after all these  years, than to destroy our Divine and our most powerful protectors, on  both sides of a terrible argument that we have already settled, here in  Kirkwall?

As such, trade with Tevinter has been suspended for the  duration of these troubles in the South. A great loss to many of us who  enjoy the furniture, but let it never be said we, as a nation, put  money into this wickedness. Let our own wickedness be confined to a long  history of cheating at cards and dumping rude Orlesians in the bay.

As  to the Qun, I have heard nothing of the involvement of the Qunari.  Merely one Vashoth, and we of this city know the difference, who served  on the security team and was rescued by Holy Andraste, herself. I have  no concerns about our Commander converting to the Qun, after what he  saw, in our own city, all those years past.

That said, if he has  not returned home before the latest trade treaties are signed and  finalised, I may temporarily place the city in the care of my loyal and  fastidious seneschal, while I go to discover what exactly is going on  down south. Which I would not need to do if a certain husband of mine  would send regular updates on his condition and events!

\-- Lord Dog.  


	26. (July 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  I have married a wonderful young woman who is as the dawn to my every  day, but her family is of considerable standing, and her mother wholly  convinced that I am unable to perform a husband's work, to the point  that she sends her own husband or the family's manservants to our home  to quietly pay our tabs before they're due and carry in far more supply  than we can put to use before it goes off. We have taken to cooking  regular suppers for the neighbours and our tenant farmers, just to keep  it from going to waste! And nothing we say will stop this barrage of  what would seem generosity, if the woman were not speaking ill of my own  ability to provide and using the receipts of sent goods as her proof!  We dread every visit of families of old friends who have heard and  believed these things, for they come seeking to convince my 'poor wife'  to return with them to Ansburg! Her mother refuses to acknowledge any  messages my wife has sent, begging her to stop this slander. What more  can we do, to prevent this continuing?  
> \-- Vexed in the Vimmarks**

Dear Vexed:  
On  the one hand, the slander cannot be left unchecked. On the other, you  are the recipient of profound fortune, enabling you to do good works in  your community, which you have already undertaken in self-defence.  Surely the words of your friends, neighbours, and tenants -- people who  must know what's been happening -- can turn the tide the other way,  speaking of your best qualities and ongoing generosity. But, as you say,  your accusers live in Ansburg and yourself away from it. I offer a few  options for conveying the message.

You mention that some visit  you -- your father-in-law, the servants, old friends from Ansburg. If  you keep your house busy during the season where most visits occur -- I  find that to be late winter through spring -- then surely they must come  upon those people who would speak well of you with little prompting.  Surround yourself with friends, and let them contradict any vileness  they hear.

If you have friends visiting their own relations in  Ansburg, say, for Wintersend, ask them to deliver a generous gift to  your in-laws, at home. Let it be seen that you can easily afford to give  back in some measure, no doubt because you have the ability to provide  for yourselves, else you would subsist only on what you were given, with  nothing left to make further purchases of things not included in the  original ... 'gift'. I will advise against sending back the same goods  delivered to you -- this could be used to make the argument that you are  a ruthless husband, forcing your darling wife to live in conditions far  below her worth and standing.

Consider also donating to the  Chantry, in a very public fashion, but with little fanfare. An open  wagon driven through the village should serve well enough, but the  delivery should be made by your wife. It is common for thanks to be  offered and you might ask that those thanks be addressed to your  in-laws, thanking them for raising such a generous daughter. This  excludes you from the 'ruthless husband' argument in regard to gifts.

Take  the money you have from the bills having been paid behind your back and  pay a crier to read statements of your good deeds, written by others,  up and down the streets of Ansburg. Ensure the crier has the opportunity  to meet and speak with at least some of the people whose messages he'll  be reading -- or better, pick a crier who knows you, that he may  deliver a true statement when questioned about you and your supposed  sins.

And, if nothing else, simply begin forcefully turning  people away at the door. Give them no food, no rest, no comfort, and let  them know that their failure to respect your home means they are no  longer welcome. Request from your suppliers that no one be permitted to  do business on your account, including paying it, without your own or  your wife's personal permission. Remember, it may not matter what is  said in Ansburg, if you do not return there.  
\--Lord Dog 


	27. (August 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Being that you are a native of the most dog-loving nation in Thedas, I must ask if you have heard of the return of Master Levyn, the legendary leader of Fereldan refugees. For your readers, who may not know, Master Levyn is said to have led hundreds of people safely through the darkspawn-infested Bannorn, returning again and again to find more lost travellers and besieged villages to bring to what we all hoped would be safety, in the Marches. It seems that now that Ferelden is once again in danger, this time from these demon-spewing holes in the sky, Levyn has returned to us!**   
>  **\-- Ready in Redcliffe**

  
Dear Ready:  
I had not heard! Master Levyn's is a name well-known to every Fereldan expatriate in Kirkwall, second only to Anders the Healer. The one sent them here, and the other found them at the other side. Thought I did not travel with Levyn, myself, I have heard, as you have, that his skills were beyond measure. A man truly deserving of being made a legend, beside Calenhad and Dane! I have gathered a few brief stories from those who did travel with him, and I will share them with our readers to prove the point!  
  
It is said by those who fled the Wilds that Levyn looked like a man in search of his own death, when he found them. But, on the road to Gwaren, not one of them fell, because Levyn cut down the darkspawn with his magic sword, leaping into battle with even an ogre, with nothing but a short sword in his hands. He is said to have slain it through trickery, and not brute strength -- a man after my own heart, clearly -- confusing the beast until it broke its hands, pounding stone where he'd stood, and then fearlessly climbing it, to stab it through the eye.  
  
Refugees from Honnleath -- the town my husband hails from, hello to my in-laws! No, I haven't heard from him! -- say that Master Levyn was already a force of nature, like a spirit of the wood, when he came to them, promising safe passage to Gwaren. In this tale, he wielded his famed sword, but paths widened when he passed, as if the forest itself and the grasses of the Bannorn simply moved out of his way. He hunted darkspawn archers, fast, angry, and untiring, moving even to shield travellers from the arrows with his own body. As if touched by Our Lady, the arrows splintered when they struck him. None were lost on the way to Gwaren.  
  
Some fled for more northerly ports, and those who came through Highever speak just as well of Levyn. He rescued a small group from the middle of the Bannorn, arriving, they said, in a cloud of thick smoke, as if someone had bottled a fire of lard and wet wood. And speaking for myself, if that comes in a bottle, I definitely want to get my hands on some, as the smoke seems to have driven the darkspawn to confusion, and left them striking out at each other, as Levyn led the travellers away.  
  
Indeed, it seems that nearly every Fereldan in Kirkwall has a story of Levyn's mastery in battle. One wonders if the man is not a Warden, to fight so well against the darkspawn, but we have never had an answer. Every person who asked him of himself, his origins, was turned politely away with no explanation. The legendary Master Levyn is a mystery, but one that may not need to be solved. If his will and his blade remain as strong against demons as they were against darkspawn, who are we to concern ourselves with where he trained or what sort of child he might have been?  
  
If Levyn has returned, I have little doubt the people of Ferelden are in good hands.  
\-- Lord Dog


	28. Chapter 28

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I have heard it said, down at the docks, that there is no demon worse than the people around it. Can this be true? Is this just mad legend from Rivain? Is this some trick sent down by the Qunari to make us doubt? To make us weak?**   
>  **\-- Spirit Stories**

  
Dear Stories:  
I have taken your question to the mages of our fair city, in hopes they might explain the nature of demons to us all. Here, we have worse demon problems than any inhabited place in the known world, so our hunters have the most recent research and the best view of what they are fighting. In other places, demons are rare and frightening. Here, they reach out to noblewomen from the depths below our cellars, so we are much better prepared to know and to answer.  
  
In the view of our Baroness, who battled and slew a demon older than the Blight, demons are spirits who have embodied the worst mankind has to offer -- envy, pride, rage, greed, all things the Chantry warns us against indulging. The mere act of coming into contact with those things can harm a spirit that isn't strong enough, and any spirit one meets in the world has been around people and mortal thought long enough to begin to think like us, even as it pursues its goal. Worse, she says, are those who have not yet come to think like us -- the purity of their drive, even toward what we'd consider virtuous ends -- is too harsh for most people to bear.  
  
Spirits, I am told by a spirit healer once of my acquaintance, are not bound by the same rules as we are. They do not eat or sleep. They come from the Fade, in which change can be made with a powerful thought, and nothing is truly permanent. They are frustrated and confused by the limits imposed by our world, and some will fight those limits in pursuit of their goals. Most notable among those are the demons who take flesh and try to bend it to their whims. Inevitably, they fail, distorting their hosts far beyond what one might expect of man or beast.  
  
But, what has this to do with whether demons are better or worse than people? Well, the demon is made of a spirit changed by the thoughts of the people it comes into contact with, and this is where your story has its roots. A young demon is shaped by the imagined and real evils around it, and comes to desire to reproduce those things. But, a demon is not constrained by mortal rules or mortal time. It is everlasting, until it is broken of its ways and driven back to the Fade. Its reach grows wider, as it ages. It's desires grow stranger and more specific. A thing it witnessed only once in centuries might become its fixation, and it may seek to recreate that again and again. So, I would say there is, in fact, no demon worse than the things it has seen, but warn that it has seen far more in its lifetime than any one mortal person, and it has seen the darkest dreams and desires of those around it, even those things no person would truly do.  
  
But, with that in mind, I would say that still the best way to prevent strengthening new demons is to be the sort of person who behaves righteously and looks after one's family and neighbours. You cannot control your dreams, but you can at least ensure the evils of those dreams remain far from your deeds. Even if this cannot stop the demons beneath our fair city, it will surely weaken them greatly.  
\-- Lord Dog

* * *

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **With the current Tevinter trade embargo, certain components our city depends on for the manufacture of goods have become difficult to acquire. Smuggling has become normal in a way it hasn't been in years, and the price of legitimate imports via Orlais and Antiva has gotten utterly out of hand! What is a poor herbalist to do with no Silent Plains Rose?**   
>  **\-- Hurting for Herbs**

  
Dear Hurting:  
This scarcity is short lived, while we attempt to arrange alternate sources for our most-used Tevinter imports. The Silent Plains Rose, in particular, is something I must advise buying from Hasmal, as they seem to have momentarily cornered the market, in the Marches. We have sent both mages and coin, to ensure their continued success in cultivating the plant and bringing down the price beyond even where it sat before the Tevinter embargo. Tevinter has too long held hostage this vital plant, and I am told they risk driving it into extinction. The plantations near Hasmal should ensure its future for all of Thedas.  
  
While I might advise turning to some Antivan sources for oils, Rivaini prices are inevitably better, and I prefer having them in port. Tevinter wines, I'm afraid, will be a total loss, but the wines of Nevarra are an excellent foreign complement to any meal, if you wish something more exotic than we have locally. For those who are still importing runes, I must advise turning to our own Mistress Gytha, whose prices are fully in keeping with the going rates of Tevinter, minus the shipping costs and associated waiting. I might also venture that having trained in Orzammar, the quality of her goods is much higher. It is her shields, after all, that preserved the roofs of so many buildings, the day the Chantry fell.  
  
It is regrettable that these alternate trade agreements could not have been forged in advance, but be certain the Council is working hard to ensure that drawing away from Tevinter goods will leave us only temporarily scrambling for replacements. We hope this opens a new era of manufacturing, farming, and trade within the Marches.  
\-- Lord Dog


	29. (October 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I have heard a rumour from the South, that there is a red stone that consumes those it touches, and I am reminded of the 'statue' of the late Commander Meredith that once sat in the courtyard of The Gallows. What became of that statue? Does anyone know for sure? Are we certain she has not risen again to afflict Ferelden and Orlais with her madness and disease?**   
>  **\-- Repulsed by Red**

  
Dear Repulsed:  
While the statue of our late commander has, in fact, vanished without a trace, I have no reason to believe she is wandering southern Thedas spreading sickness and misery, as she did here. I have heard rumours the 'statue' may have been removed by collectors of the arcane, and I can only hope they are protected against its effects.  
  
If any residents of our fair city should find pieces of that red stone in the streets, I urge you to send word to Captain Aveline, that we can have it removed as quickly as possible, by properly trained individuals.  
\--Lord Dog  
  
Dear Repulsed:  
I can assure you the statue is safely contained, in a private location. The current owners have several centuries of experience in handling rare and dangerous magical materials and artefacts, and while I cannot reveal anything more, I ask that you trust that whatever is happening across the sea has nothing to do with Meredith, except that it may involve the same material that once afflicted her.  
\-- A Seamstress  
  
A Note from Your Local Runesmith:  
Skip the Guard and send me a runner. I'll have to come pick it up anyway. The key to safely handling this stuff is not to touch it. Don't even nudge it with your boot. If that dust gets on you, there's not gonna be a happy ending. Just stay back and send a runner, and I'll come down and take care of it. We've got a special kind of vault that should keep it contained for centuries, if the pre-Blight thaigs are any sign.  
  
While this stuff might be new to the surface, your jerky neighbourhood dwarves have been dealing with this kind of thing since before your Andraste was even born, and some of us fresh to the topside have an actual clue how to handle it. That said, it's been observed that dwarves have an even more severe and immediate reaction to exposure, so don't think you can just stand outside the Merchants' Guild and petition for assistance. You need a runecrafter, and I've been working on teaching proper handling to some of the Tranquil, so we can go after this stuff at the source and try to seal it up again.  
  
Wish us luck! We're doing it for you!  
\-- Master Dicksmith

* * *

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I've joined an expedition to assist in the battle against the demons invading the southern lands. I believe I have all my equipment in order, and my husband is well funded to handle the household in my absence. But, is there any advice you can offer a lady adventurer on dangerous journeys abroad?**   
>  **\-- Destroyer of Demons**

  
Dear Destroyer:  
My first and foremost advice will be simple! Write home. Daily if you can. Weekly if that is as often as you can send post. But, send letters to your husband. It is vitally important that your family receive word that you're all right! It may seem obvious to you, perhaps even boring, if nothing has happened recently, but I can promise that everyone at home will be thrilled just to see that you are still safe.  
  
If you find interesting goods, in your travel, you may wish to send those as well. Be sure to mention them in the letters, so that if the letter and the parcel are somehow separated, your family will know what you tried to send. While piracy is rampant in times of war, it is often safer to entrust one's messages directly to Raider captains. They'll sometimes charge a little more, but your shipments could not be more secure than if the Raiders have them in the first place. Your payments ensure the packages are worth delivering.  
  
In times of combat, we are often taught that the direct offence is more noble, valiant, and righteous, but when fighting demons, they have no rules of war, as do civilised people. Offer no quarter and be quick to take any opening. Stab the bastards in the back, my lady. It'll save lives, including your own.  
  
If you pour ashes in your boots to keep them from getting foul on a long march, as some advise, definitely make very certain they are cold ashes! Several terrible mistakes could have been avoided and many pairs of shoes saved by using only ashes cool to the touch! And on a similar note, be sure to knock your boots out, before putting them on, in the morning. Ferelden, in particular, has a wide variety of dangerous beetles and spiders drawn to the warmth of freshly-shed leather boots and armour.  
  
As always, treat the locals as you would your neighbours! Shake hands. Smile at people. Ask them to let you know if they're having trouble with anything unusual. Don't just focus on the obvious demons! These are subtle creatures, which you surely know from your time in Kirkwall. Take it from the mercenary's son -- the less specific you are, the more you'll turn up. Sure, some of it might just be rabid wolves, but that's one less thing that village will have to deal with, and one more reason they'll be happy to see you the next time you pass through.  
  
But, most of all, write home! I cannot emphasize it enough!  
\--Lord Dog


	30. (November 2018)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I've recently moved away from my family and took up residence in a property my employer wanted me to maintain. For about a year, this worked well. I would be there to ensure the maintenance was being performed and deliveries were being made. And then, my employer contacted me to let me know her family was selling the property, and whether I wished my contract to be sold with it, or if I wished to remain with her family. I let her sell the contract, as I rather liked the house, and now I've discovered the buyer was the woman I've been dating! And she didn't tell me, my employer did! This is a bizarre situation, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with it!**   
>  **\-- Sorry I'm Sold**

  
Dear Sorry:  
The first questions I have in return are about the contract! Your contract's been bought out by the woman you're dating, but a) does she intend to keep the contract to the specified terms and b) how long is the contract? If she means to keep the terms of your contract -- paying you to perform the same work you've been doing all along -- it'll be a bit of a strange relationship, but not necessarily a bad one. Certainly, that's something you should be able to do just as well as you've done for your previous employer, but it might be worth not renewing that contract and seeking other work, when it ends.  
  
If the contract is a long one -- say, five years, instead of one -- you may wish to renegotiate it. Explain to your girlfriend why you're uneasy working for her, and what you're afraid it will mean for your relationship. Any reasonable person should be able to understand that employing one's own lover is bound to inspire some difficulties in the community, if not in the relationship.  
  
And besides that, why did she buy this building in particular? You see, there is a similar tale involving Lord Halla purchasing his husband's home, to shield him from eviction. If the property was going to be sold anyway, it may be that she bought it to make sure you could stay there. You know how the laws around property ownership work, in Hightown -- only those with titles can buy in, and it doesn't sound like you're in a position to do so. Perhaps she simply wanted to ensure you would be able to keep your home.  
  
But, you'll never know until you ask! And definitely keep an eye on your own interests, here -- not everyone is as benevolent as Lord Halla! Let our readers know what you discover, and what you decide to do.  
\--Lord Dog  
  
Dear Sorry:  
It is like Lord Dog says. You have to look out for yourself, but ~~don't do anything destroctave~~ don't break anything in your relationship, before you know what's going on. This looks bad: she bought your house and your contract. I had no contract, so Lord Halla only bought the house, but I still made him leave. He stayed mostly away, only seeing me in public, until I knew he wasn't trying anything. I may have been too hard on him, but you don't know what someone will be like, when they do something like this, even if you knew them before. Lord Dog is right. You should ask.  
\-- Sword of Shartan

* * *

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **Our neighbours throw wild parties nearly every Makersday, and not only are we never invited -- nor are any of the other neighbours -- but, the parties go on at top volume all night. All attempts to address this in a neighbourly fashion have ended in us being turned away by the butler! We have left notes and cards, both introducing ourselves and explaining the problem, but everything remains the same. What more can be done?**   
>  **\-- Hard Time in Hightown**

  
Dear Hard Time:  
It's probably time to call the guard. You've made every effort to contact your neighbours, and received the same response: nothing. They have no interest in behaving like decent people. The next time they have a wild party, try summoning the guards! Your other neighbours, from this description, certainly won't mind the intervention.  
  
Alternately, invite over all your other neighbours and pay the loudest and worst musicians you can to play terrible rounds right up against the garden wall. You and your other neighbours can sing along in the most obnoxious way. This can either be done while your loud neighbours are having a loud party, or you can schedule it the morning after, while they're most likely to be sleeping off that loud party! Give them a taste of their own moonshine!  
\-- Lord Dog  
  
Dear Hard Time:  
If you go with that second option, invite all the Hawkes you can get to come out to play. There's no party like a Hawke party -- these folks had a wedding with mages, where the groom jumped off the roof. And then there was the wedding where they fought off an angry Tevinter magister, bent on kidnapping one of them! I'd wonder if your annoying neighbours weren't the Hawkes, but everyone gets invited to those parties, and they haven't had one in a few years. It's about time, though, and if you can get Starkhaven's First Enchanter to come down, I don't think you'll ever have a problem with the neighbours again.  
\-- Your Anonymous Editor  
  
Dear Hard Time:  
Why bother with Starkhaven, when you could just invite First Enchanter Tim? Llomeryn rum goes in, stunning displays of smoke and glitter come out!  
\-- J Sharp  
  
Dear J Sharp:  
Why bother with mages? It's a real party when the two of us show up.  
\-- Lord Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no December 2018 Ask Lord Dog, because Advent happens in December.


	31. (January 2019)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **I'm afraid I've made a drunken bet with a Dalesman, and now I call upon you to answer this where all can see it, that there will be no question to whom the coin is owed. Tell me, Lord Dog, is Lord Halla an actual halla, as has been proposed?**   
>  **\-- Drunken Bettor**

  
Dear Bettor,  
You've been talking to Junar, haven't you? He's been saying Lord Halla's the real thing for years, despite some excellent evidence to the contrary. He's not a halla, that is. He's very definitely a lord, listed in the Index Of Noble Grants for Kirkwall. But, rather than take my word for it, let's have some expert testimony on the subject of halla and Lord Halla, from other members of the very same clan!  
\-- Lord Dog  
  
Dear Bettor:  
I refer you first to any reasonable description of a halla, like this one from _A Young Orlesian's Guide to Deer_. 'The halla is a kind of antelope which is holy to the elves. They are white or silver in colour and have unusual antlers that swirl and coil like vines. The halla is said to be the swiftest and nimblest of all deer, lean and graceful, even with a rider, in a way not even Antivan racing horses could hope to be. Still, the elves have found some way to tame them, and halla are often seen ridden by hunters or pulling Dalish caravans.'  
  
Now, this leaves out much of the cultural significance of halla! They are not holy, but sacred to one of our goddesses. We do not tame them, but come to them as friends. But, as a description of what a halla looks like, this is a simple but unmistakeable one. They are lithe, silvery antelope with long, swirling horns, often seen in the company of elves.  
  
On the surface, there are some points in favour of Lord Halla being an actual halla: he is lithe and often seen in the company of elves! But, he is most assuredly not silvery, nor is he an antelope. In fact, despite long tensions between our people, Lord Halla is human enough to look it!  
  
So, no, Bettor. Lord Halla is not a real halla.  
\-- Friend of the Halla  
  
Dear Bettor:  
Despite Junar's constant assertions to the contrary, Lord Halla is not an actual halla, and my name is not Hahren Halla-Fucker. As Friend of the Halla says, he's a human noble with a close relationship to our clan, and a closer one to me. Assume, here, that I am moving my eyebrows suggestively.  
  
And because it is often one of Junar's arguments, I put forth that _having horns_ is a very different state to _being horny_.  
\-- Sword of the Dales  
  
Dear Bettor:  
My husband is many things, but a halla is not among them. You can tell Junar I will let Lord Halla push him off another cliff, if this idiocy continues.  
\-- Sword of Shartan

* * *

> **Dear Lord Dog:**   
>  **With the recent rash of breakins, in Hightown, some families are now questioning the wisdom of electing you as viscount. In fact, some have suggested that this cat burglar may be none other than Lord Dog, himself! What have you to say in light of this situation?**   
>  **\-- Non-Fatally Curious**

Dear Curious:  
Curiosity may have killed the proverbial cat, but satisfaction brought it back. And no penalty was ever levelled upon the dog. That said, I believe concerns about most crimes are better aimed at our Captain of the Guard! Why should I be aware of an investigation into mere burglary? It's not smuggling, piracy, treason, or misconduct by the Council ... as far as we're aware. Perhaps it is misconduct by the Council, though I doubt any of them have the skill to go uncaught even once!  
  
But, I do know the crime in question, as some friends have been robbed, so I will say this cat burglar is assuredly not myself! Why, if it were me, it wouldn't be a cat burglar at all, but a dog burglar, don't you think? Besides which, I'm an extraordinarily wealthy ruling noble. What use would I have for someone else's jewels and perfumes? I could have my own, which are much more attractive on me. And I certainly wouldn't be stealing from my own friends! The world has no use for someone who steals from their own friends, and if that cat burglar (And who came up with that ridiculous phrase? I've never known one who stole cats, though I've known some cats who could use being stolen) numbers among us, I call upon them to remember this!  
  
Perhaps I shall take a stand! A brief education in window treatments for my neighbours. Perhaps I'll spend a few evenings away from home and see if we don't run into one another in someone else's halls.  
\-- Lord Dog


	32. (February 2019)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  I  protest the idea that you have never known anyone who stole cats. Did  you or did you not reside in a house with a boldly felonious filcher of  felines? Surely no one can claim so many cats about themselves except by  theft!  
> \-- The Watch Cat

Dear Kitty:  
To  the best of my knowledge there is only one person you could possibly  mean, and Warden Buttz had only two cats, from the same litter,  legitimately adopted. Two is a number i realise some cultures don't  have, but it's surely not 'so many'. Any other cats just liked him,  because he could be easily scammed out of cream and roast nug.  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Lord Dog:  
If  scamming for cream is what makes a cat, it might not be wrong to say  Warden Buttz was just one of them. He certainly yowled angrily in the  streets often enough.  
\-- Sword of Shartan

Dear Sword:  
I'm relatively sure he couldn't have been a cat, if he didn't lick his own arse.  
\-- Pretty in Pink

Dear Pretty:  
An  arthritic cat, then, but he came fairly close! Still, Warden Buttz is  not usually what springs to my mind when someone says 'puss puss'.  
\-- A Feathered Friend

Dear Cat:  
Warden  Buttz didn't steal his cats! There were only two, and they came from a  litter I helped care for, in the Alienage. And no one would ever steal a  cat! That's like stealing a halla! They can pick their own friends, and  they do.  
\-- Daisy Crowned

Dear Daisy:  
Speaking of stealing a halla... *clears throat at Sword of the Dales*  
\-- Andruil's Aegis

* * *

> **Dear Lord Dog:  
>  Maybe we should spend less time calling me a halla and more time calling Junar an ass. Except, oh right, no one wants to ride ** _**him.  
> ** _ **\-- Lord Halla**

Dear Lord Halla:  
Don't  look at me. I said you weren't a halla. I even invited a panel of elven  experts to explain why you weren't a halla. Any further halla-ing is  between you and Junar, and I'm sure we'll hear it all the way down to  the docks.  
\-- Lord Dog

Dear Lord Halla:  
'No one'? Are you  sure about that? I'm pretty sure there's a sapper we know who'd beg to  differ. (And beg for other things, too, if her letters are anything to  judge by!)  
\-- Master Dicksmith

Dear Dicksmith:  
Maybe it's just because they don't have asses in Orzammar. I mean, he's better looking than a bronto.  
\-- Big Boats

Dear Boats:  
Of  course they've got asses in Orzammar! What do you think the Assembly  spends all their time sitting on? Oh. Wait. Maybe not the kind of ass  you meant.  
\-- Master Dicksmith

Dear Editor:  
Petition to change future responses from 'Andruil's Aegis' to be from 'Andruil's Ass'.  
\-- Sword of the Dales  
Co-signed: Sword of Shartan, Pretty In Pink, A Feathered Friend

Editor's  note: Tempting though it may be, this establishment declines to alter  the attributions on submitted content, except to prevent embarrassment,  not to further it. This editor has suggested that Master Dicksmith may  wish to consider a new 'Orzammarran Asses' product line, beginning with  absolutely any member of the Assembly.


	33. (March 2019)

> **Dear Lord Dog:**  
>  Recently I have found myself wondering about the strangest of things which I dare not ask for fear of being found mad. Having read the Gazette for quite some time now, I decided to gather my courage and ask one of these questions of you and your companions. Are magic and mages in anyway affected as the moons dance through the night's sky above Thedas?  
>  \-- Hoping to Settle My Mind

Dear Hoping:  
This may come as a surprise, but despite the large number of free mages in Kirkwall, I did not know the answer, either! Rumours suggested that it was believed in Antiva that there were bizarre sex rituals on the roof of the Circle Tower, on the full moons, but alas, that turned out not to be the case. A pity, too, I was looking forward to learning some new tricks! But, for those ill-inclined to sit through a good story, though, the answer seems to be no. No mages I asked, including several enchanters and instructors, could report any changes in their magic during particular positions of the moons in the sky.

Still, the question led into the depths of legends of the moon from everywhere in Thedas! How can one hope to know what's true now, if we don't know what people believed before Tevinter invaded? Or before the Chantry burned their books, but shhhh, I'm married to a Templar and I said no such thing.

The earliest stories -- or at least the stories of the earliest times -- talk about a Thedas with no moons at all! The elves say the moon was made of the blood of the sun, after the god Elgar'nan pulled the sun down for burning the earth. They say that the goddess Mythal came to the place where the sun slept at night and scraped up the bloody dirt and rolled it into a glowing ball to put in the sky, next to the drops of the sun's blood that had become stars. And early Andrastians said the Maker did almost the same! Some legends from after Andraste and before the Chantry say that the Maker built the sky to protect the world, and put the sun, moons, and stars in it to give us light. The Chant, as we know it, talks about the creation of the world, but not about the creation of the sky or the moons. Tevinter, of course, attributes the moons to Lusacan, the god of night. In recent years, a cult of Lusacan sprung up in the Marches, calling itself 'The Last Moon', which, if you ask me, sounds more like someone hanging their ass off a boat leaving the harbour.

If we move on to a world that has at least one moon, we come to the elven goddess Andruil, sometimes depicted as a woman with antlers like a halla, with a crescent moon under her right foot, and two hares beside her. Sword of the Dales recited some ancient poetry in which Andruil refers to herself as the 'Sister of the Moon', which I'm told is the top of a rabbithole of legendry I narrowly escaped. And everyone who has looked for legends of the moon has seen the pamphlets of speculation about Tevinter's secret allegiance with the 'Moon Men' -- people said to live upon one of the moons. There was once a terrible play performed in Orlais, said to have been so very bad it sparked a riot, that also spoke of people living on one of the moons. To my lasting good fortune, only a few pages and fewer references to that play remain.

But, even in all the legends and stories I could find, from the past, I could find no word of mages and magic being changed by either moon. But, the pursuit of such a story has been an excellent diversion with which I've kept the trade contracts at bay, all week! And now I must unlock my door before Messere Cavin climbs through a window with them...  
\-- Lord Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Got a question for Lord Dog? You can ask it [here](https://goo.gl/forms/5l53eTFzWm5ZETS73)!
> 
> ~~We reserve the right to choose which questions we answer, and when. All questions should be fictional and focused on Thedosian themes and events.~~


End file.
